


A Small Yacht

by KuyaReCom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Attempt at Humor, Blood and Injury, Cold War References, Doctors & Physicians, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, HetaHospital, Hetalia Hospital, Hetasylum, Historical References, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medical Information, Minor UsUk Burn, Multi, Prussia Can't Get Any Truth Pass His Ego (Hetalia), Psychologist Prussia (Hetalia), Psychology, Radiologist Russia (Hetalia), Russia has Issues (Hetalia), Surgeons, Surgery, Texting, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-11-01 23:11:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20540165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuyaReCom/pseuds/KuyaReCom
Summary: Working as an independent counselling psychologist in the infamous private HetaHospital, Gilbert was shockingly loved by his patients that knew nothing about his overwhelmed narcissistic personality. Even so, he was one of the best, a supreme at his job. a declared professional and a huge wall of ego surrounding him, which nobody had ever faced or broke through in their entire life.Thus, when Ivan Braginsky from an unknown background or medical school information transferred and snatched the Head Of Radiology Department job under everyone's unexpected noses, Gilbert got his instincts sharpened and was intrigued to find more about this new mysterious employee. And it didn't get better as they loathed each other from the start.Or well, when Gilbert nearly took his head off using his rapier.Wait, who even put a sword in their office?





	1. Emergency Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Russia/Prussia minus UsUk burn!  
This'll contain medical information, at the end of the chapter, I'll link you to my Twitter for more information. Heh, my Twitter is so empty tho.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really, ER was always hustling with activities and don't get him wrong because Gilbert loved it when the attention was on him.

"You know Lud, life is karma sometimes."

The sound of muffled voice had stopped for a brief yet tense second.

"Didn't expect that from you, bruder." Ludwig said in his usual stern voice, he continued in an ending tone. "I need to go now, I have class next hour and my dogs need me."

"When will you pick me over your dogs! That's so unfair! And you're supposed to be my little brother!"

Ludwig sounded exasperated as he wheezed, "I need to go for real. Greetings."

"Greetings?! Greetin- Oi!"

A sharp tune cut in from the eternal line of the mobile network, staring at his blank phone with a dubious face, Gilbert let it slipped from his hand to let the shiny 5G smartphone fell onto the bunker bed below.

The gadget with the black-and-white cover landed on a frumpy-looking pillow, its colours washed off with tiny specks of yellow creasing the aging wrinkles. Gilbert watched his phone from upwards which was his bunker bed before sighing. The smell of linen and detergent was trying to overlap any lingering unpleasant tastes brought upon by the staff facilities that were taking a short break in the room before continuing their shift in on-calls. Even so, Gilbert could still made out the snide confirmation of bile, metformin and what appeared suspiciously to be traditional cough syrup. A roommate, definitely a pharmacist must had spilled it.

He swayed his legs over the bed pole, feeling the chill from the metal. Evening his breath, he grabbed a small old pillow and decided to squeeze it into his face as he tried to calm his mind down.

"Fuck! I can't!" He growled as he threw the pillow directly onto the floor, landing on a cockroach crawling quietly from underneath the bed. He was feeling mildly exhausted and wanted to take a simple rest but no, hell had better plans for him. His adorable little brother had decided to cut their daily communications short ever since the staff's workloads had suddenly raised quicker than a cat stealing a fish. He just remembered about his own workload waiting at his office as he stared at the ceiling.

Hefting his body up, Gilbert groaned as he slid down the bed to reach for his phone, sparing a glance at the cockroach's swaying antennas peeking from the pillow.

Grabbing his coat, he scrolled the messages that just popped in his notification box.

Gilbert grimaced from the bomb load of texts hitting his face and the sparse stretch in his HetaMail box. He went back to the home screen and saw someone PM-ed him just a few seconds ago.

**Toni's Small Tomato: You there, albino?** ** ^^Read.**

**Toni's Small Tomato: Come to the counter, we need to talk. It's urgent. ^^Read**

Another _bzzt!_

**Toni's Small Tomato: NOW.**

Gilbert pursed his lips in annoyance before shutting his phone off and shoved it down into his pocket.

He wore his coat, straightening the cuffs before opening the door and stepping outside. The white corridor was not very narrow so he managed to duck past a rolling rack full of assorted files. It was afternoon and the peak hour, he should'd expected this as he dodged an upcoming full set heading towards ER, sounds from various shoes especially platform boots, hitting his ears as he flattened himself at the wall, making room for them to rush past and hopefully didn't flat him. Someone whipped his head to quickly looked at him, blonde bangs blowing. Gilbert recognising it as Vash. Vash send him a neutrally pity look, a curt apology before pushing the stroller with full power back again through a set of flipped doors. They disappeared from view and the corridor was back to its rushing normality.

He stood straight, deciding that another set of ER session in the corridor would make him late and a higher chance to get flatten. Damn. If he was late for this, Lovino would bite his head off. Well, assuming that Antonio's the one who always got actually bitten by the ravenous yet petite man. The others who get the death threat were usually harmless; the man was indeed all bark but no bite except when it involved a very poor Spaniard.

Scanning his card at the device planted in the wall just below the_ Staff Only _sign, he walked into another long set of corridor and pushed a door open.

"Hey, is Lovi here?" He called out, the room appeared empty.

Someone from the corner of the room answered out, "Hell no!" From the curl bouncing out he could see, it was really the small tomato.

"Why you lying when you're here~?" Gilbert deliberately asked as he walked towards the desk.

Lovino twirled his chair, facing Gilbert directly in the face. His expression was that of a double-shot pissed Espresso with no sugar, wholly black with a snap of chili flakes.

"Well.." Gilbert decided to talk about the elephant in the room, better take risks than just wait for nothing when it came to Lovino.

"Why cha call me? Thought that you're in Emergency."

Lovino puffed a loud one, his bangs flying before dropping back to cover his forehead. "That's my problem-a here. You free next hour?"

Gilbert thought of his paperwork waiting on his desk, still though. "Ja."

Lovino looked at him and slowly lifted an eyebrow for dramatic effect. (How did Gilbert know it? Well, everything Lovino did was dramatic, he was a self-proclaimed Drama Queen from what Toni said.)

He settled, "Well, good. 'Cause you're switching with Alfred or Jones or whatever-a." He spun his chair, back facing Gilbert as he took a stack of tomato-shaped sticky notes from his colourful assorts.

"I'm switching with Al what now?" Gilbert didn't point out that the other man just simultaneously used the American's foster and first name. (Because Lovino would flip his shit if he noticed it) 

Lovino looked up at him with a deadpan expression, "You know, in Emergency."

"Wait! Why me? And why Al?" Gilbert raised a hand. He thought of Emergency. Well, hallo, he _hated _Emergency with all the rushing, the panic tension and whatever emergency-related thingies that anyone assigned to Emergency needs to deal with. Like Vash just now, it was an unspoken fact that he's a workaholic and the whole ER depended on him. He mentally saluted Alfred who always volunteered and get nit-picked (_bullied_) by the other doctors (_mainly his lecturer, Arthur)_ to force to take Emergency.

Lovino scoffed as if his question was a common sense practice, "Well, Jones have a class because his lecturer, shitty Kirkland decided to have one, today. Someone needs to switch with him goddamn now."

"So, you want me?"

The Italian returned back to his desk, "Yeah. I know you don't do emergency and stuff like us. Besides, just use this to get a free beer from Alfred. Heard that a new musician's in town, working for our usual bar as it seems."

Gilbert should be thankful that Lovino was giving him a tip about the exclusive and gorgeous bar the staff always frequented about but well- he was annoyed that he needed to deal with Emergency. Besides, doing this wasn't a necessity in his job or something, he's only for dealing with patients that were prepared to face him and knowing their meeting was going to happen in a scheduled matter of time and a lot of emotional prodding.

No use on trying to wiggle his way out. Lovino Vargas was unexpectedly strict when it came to shifts, a good change beside his obsession with bellas or beautiful girls or pasta. Tomatoes were a taboo to mention so he didn't dare to mention it.

He blew through his closed lips, "Fine. Fine. When's the next patient coming?"

"5 minutes." Lovino stated, eyes not leaving the schedule he just magically whipped out from nowhere.

Gilbert groaned and leaned on the wall.

"So, how's-" He started.

"Code Red!! I repeat, Code Red!!!"

"IIk!!" Lovino shrieked as he practically jumped in his seat. Gilbert had a feeling he just let out a small scream from the sudden outburst coming from the walkie-talkie.

"LOVINO! I REPEAT, CODE RED!"

Lovino snatched the walkie-talkie from the jumble of papers as aggressive as he could before snarling directly into the netted-sponge.

"Si! Si! I heard you from the very first time you fucking screamed the code, Alfonso!"

A muffled voice was heard statically from the device, the Portuguese's voice was boisterous as always. "We need someone here- like Santa Maria! This guy's on his deathbed!"

Lovino pulled a ballpen from his shirt pocket and scribbled down on the sticky note while asking calmly, not panicking at the smallest from the lack of information Alfonso delivered such as how's the patient's current condition or how bad the scale was.

"Whom should I send?"

Gilbert always had respect for how a savage person such as him could stay calm at this kind of situation. Lovino managed to squeeze in the preferred medical care despite how short their communication time was.

"Is Alfredo there?!" Alfonso screamed.

Lovino froze for a second, he slowly turned his head to look at Gilbert. He was contemplating something important, the albino noticed.

"No. I'm sending Potato Bastard Number 2. The usual room, over."

"Beil? Okay... I think. Over!" Alfonso ended their transmission with his failed pronunciation of Gilbert's family name.

Lovino didn't look at Gilbert as he spoke, his hand scribbling madly. "Yeah, you heard it. Take care of this patient as gently as your rough personality could. Alfred will be mad if you mistreat this guy."

The albino was currently confused with all of this talk.

"I just need to go take care of this... guy Alfie is supposed to? And this guy happened to be important or something?"

"I'm surprised you could still catch up." The brunette smirked a bit before tearing and slapped the memo hard on Gilbert's closed palms. He jabbed a finger at the door.

"You better go. You hear it, code red!!"

Lovino swore that he loved using his authority voice so much, god.

Gilbert turned on his heels and headed automatically for the door. He felt Lovino's sharp and concentrated eyes bearing a hole at his back as he went outside the room and walked down the corridor, heading for the Emergency Room. He saw the small card lightened up greenish red at the end of the corridor and the same metal doors Vash walked through standing significantly.

He exhaled a bit. There's this queasy feeling roaming inside his chest when his red irises settled on the door.

He had a bad feeling about this patient.


	2. Drowning Russian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert was a great critic for beauty.

"You're not Jones."

That's what Vash stated to Gilbert's pompous and precious face.

As he didn't give an immediate reply, Vash continued to throw his thoughts.

"Tell me, why are you here?"

Gilbert resisted the urge to scream at him, the sound of a stroller being rolled in the background persisted him to stay glued at the spot with Vash's hawk eyes scanning over him to detect any sort of explanation on why Gilbert had decided to pop his white head here. He had seen from the corner of his left eye that behind Vash's shielding body, the staff were intending to a very outburst patient, from how noisy they were being. The noisiest thing in the hospital was either a woman in labour, Feliciano and the kids' petrified cries or Alfred being hysterical about a ghost, again.

"Shouldn't you be helping them?" Gilbert broke eye contact as he watched the scene unfolded, fingers twitching for the sake of nervousness as the patient pulled an inhuman coughing fit.

Vash crossed his arms, "I already did. Where's Jones?"

"Something comes out just today, I'm replacing him." Gilbert truthfully stated, the Swiss still didn't look convinced.

They both turned as a truly sickening cough boomed their eardrums, the patient was wheezing godly and was forever from not stopping. Splatters of water bursting, too much that Gilbert's unfocused eyes could trail them flowing from the patient's gaped mouth. Alfonso was immediately at his side, in his right hand, both an oxygen regulator and a mask. Unknown to Gilbert and Vash, they had approached the stroller and watched as Alfonso struggled to pin the patient with his free left hand.

"Deus! Please stay still!" Alfonso pleaded as he once again tried to shove the mask into the patient's face, Vash caught the slipping oxygen regulator from falling to the ground before helping him to pin down the patient while Gilbert prompted to try and calm down the patient who managed to fight off Alfonso-Vash's pronounced combined strength.

The albino reached for a hand that was nearly clawing Alfonso's eyes out, holding it firmly, not letting any sort of movement from the clammy fingers. The patient seemed taken aback as Gilbert shushed him quickly, letting him to lean further and whispered softly,

"Shush.. Everything's okay, so please stop struggling, hum?"

He stroked circles at the back of the patient's knuckles, he fidgeted a bit before relaxing, tense body flopped back onto the stroller. Immediately, Alfonso strapped the mask over his face and the calm situation reverted back to chaos as the patient flailed his arms, trying to yank away the medicine equipment. Gilbert hesitated a bit before grabbing both of his hands and pushed them hard, the patient let out a quiet groan only heard by him, the first sound he made since the struggling. He nearly suffocated and calmed down as the doctor let him fall back, body resting against the uncomfortable stroller.

Wasting no opportunity, Gilbert reviewed the patient's appearance. Wet hair stuck on pale skin, beige but almost ivory making the colours clashing a bit overwhelming. _Water? European? Maybe Northern? _He trailed down to the hawk nose, thin eyelashes covered the eyelid that was shut. Something in him screamed _Russian _and he was never wrong with his guess. However, this wasn't they type of normal Russian people would only glance - this was the type of Russian that inherited both intimidation and cuteness, attracting any normal person to snap their heads just to get a better look of him.

Gilbert couldn't help but wonder why a patient this charming was in ER. Vash interrupted, "If you mind, please let go of his hand."

Gilbert blinked and noticed the patient's hand he was holding, it had started to feel clammy so he pried his fingers cautiously from the gripping. The patient surprisingly opened his eyes and Gilbert managed to bit a gasp; lavender and lilac amethyst, he never stumbled upon these irises. Unconsciously, he peeled his hand away and in a motion, the stroller was pushed by a set of Emergency staff into another room, leaving him to stay there still gasping for breath.

Vash magically emerged beside him, scanning Gilbert and trying to think what had made the narcissist creepily quiet and irresolute for breath. Thankfully, Alfonso came to the rescue, his ponytail still intact perfectly and his sunny smile managed to outshine Vash's gloomy aura and Gilbert poked out of his own bubble. He tried to act normal so he rolled his eyes, not feeling the sarcasm and egotistical movement that usually occupied it.

"Anyways, any job I could snatch? You know, since I'm replacing Al!" His sudden sore voice outburst made the medical assistant flinched slightly, stopping his analysing and torturing glare. Was his voice that much of a major problem in the medical management? Apparently, his counselor during high school recommended him to avoid pursuing psychology like what the kese?

"You can't convince me." The Swiss lowly growled, positioning his clipboard into a better position and chalking the fact that really, _nothing could convince him._

"Vash, loosen up! Jones have a surprise class today!" The blonde Swiss scoffed at the Portuguese's decision to defend him. "Fine." He crossed his arms and explained, every word dripped with super dark chocolate. "That patient's currently in treatment. Jones' role for this frequent patient is to comfort him, I'm sure you won't pull it off." He snidely remarked the last statement.

"Stop being a pessimist, Vash! I'm very sure that Beil- Gilbert could do his job well!" Alfonso encouraged happily, his arms stretched wide.

_"Realist." _He corrected but was ignored.

Alfonso looked at him with a face that translated to; _I actually don't care and I'm very oblivious to these kind of things so please don't be so rude by trying to dim my hardworking sunshine I bless upon all of you_\- or in a brief way, _warning face_. He was really Antonio's older brother after all.

Vash seemed to get the message as he averted his threatening eyes to the clipboard he's holding, "Huh. Continuing, this patient suffers from a case of severe depression and is in his mid-20s. Also in content is PTSD, BPD and sadism. That's all blondie had managed to crack until now. What a shame that I expected more from him."

"Si, but Alfredo was the only one to ever crack that tough shell. No one had ever succeeded before." Alfonso whispered close into Gilbert's ear, obviously in range for the blonde to hear.

Gilbert nodded. Alfred was a part of The Board Of Directors and was the Head of The Psychiatric Hospital Department (despite him being too young for the job)- this Russian patient must be a hassle and the American was truthfully a medical genius. Weird combination.

"Hey, Vash." The Swiss stared at him through the rims of his silver glasses, eyes giving him permission to speak.

"What's the patient in emergency for?" Gilbert asked temptingly. The other curved up a scowl, "The usual case, you psychological psychics could just guess. Suicidal attempt. Drowning. Code Red."

"Isn't it Code Yellow?" He dozed off in his mindset, he remembered that Code Red was for severe burns, drowning, perilous accident and etc. Drowning - so that's why his hair was wet?

Alfonso volunteered to lay out, "The patient is a frequent one in suicidal attempts, Gilbert. He's escorted here at least once a month and his scars are hard to heal. Besides, he nearly drowned. It's obvious you don't like emergency."

"Who does?" He shrugged, unaffected by the mention of _frequent one in suicidal attempts_ as Alfonso cast a worried look on him. Not his fault, Gilbert was pretty sure Alfonso never once suffered from depression in his teenage years. Apparently, it runs in the family.

The Portuguese beside him handed over a clipboard, Gilbert flicked the papers as he said, "Patient Information! Don't mind the scribbles, those are Alfredo's wrongdoing."

A blue doodle of an UFO zoomed over the _allergies _section and a doctorate writing of '''FUCK YOU, ARTIE FOR BEING A DOUCHE OF A PROF!! >:P'''accompanied by a strange blob - ... a mochi in glasses with a cat (:3) face lifting the middle finger at another mochi wearing a top hat...?

"I know, it's a disaster." He scrunched his nose, the Germanic nodded in approval.

"Holy shiz, and Ludwig said that his exam papers in high school are the worst." He flipped the sheets, admiring the sketch and doodles. The original printed words were hard to describe as the usual pens of black, blue and red cut across them to shape out various of doodles, scowls and writing. And this was an art (maybe art) work of a genius! Still, Alfred couldn't compare to Feliciano's doodles and Lovino's colourful vocabulary.

Vash was quiet all the time, which was a sigh of relief since when he was involved, the conversation would just go down into a drain (unless it's about the economy). They both stopped their conversation on Alfred's drawing and peeked over the clipboard in curiousity. The Swiss had busied himself up with a different clipboard than the previous one and was twirling a pink pen with a golden crown at the tip, he caught Gilbert and Alfonso's judging stare and actually hissed,

"Stop looking."

Fortunately, Gilbert burst into a hysterical laugh.


	3. A Russian's Orders To Get A Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivan concludes that many things have happened while he can't move and practically plastered on the hospital bed; from a hot psychologist (?) session to his bank account will be filled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To say with full note:  
Gilbert's not a psychiatrist. Rather, he's a psychologist. Psychologists rarely work in a hospital but Gilbert's one of the few in HetaHospital and a Counselling at that. His office is at the Basement level alongside the psychotherapy and such, he's considered the one-in-charge for that floor.  
Meanwhile, Alfred's a psychiatrist. His ward is not on the same level with Gilbert but they still hang with each other because of the similarities and duh, awesome.

_He was drowning._

Small, harmless bubbles floated harmlessly around him, swerving upwards to pop as they touched the slightest of the surface. The sunlight seeping in through the mix of molecules was warm to his drooping eyelids yet his surrounding was eerily cold, no sound giving an impact to his brain, only the ringing by the lack of air humming passionately in his ears. A permanent reminder of how humans shold be grateful to just breathe.

His body felt heavy, as if a large boulder was wrapped over his waist and pulling him down, sinking him into the unseen depth, the calm sensation of the liquid hugging him protectively. Never wanting to let go, the water wanted him to stay, the water gave him solitude but even so, he still needed to pay the price.

_We won't let go._

The embrace got tighter, suffocating his unfunctional lungs. His hands had found themselves wrapped over his neck, scratchy fingernails digging in thick skin as he gasped, gasped, gasped-

"You're awake now?"

Came a gentle, familiar voice. The constant ringing had stopped.

He opened his eyes, slowly, the blinding lights hit his kaleidoscopes, making him winced and closing the lids back again. His body was excruciating itself by trying to be awake anyways so he decided that sleep was a better action than staying awake. He was goddamn sleepy...

"Don't fall asleep!!"

He yelped as the malicious voice hit his eardrums. Flailing awake, he sat up too fast that a wave of pain invited itself into his brain.

"Mladishy brat, don't fall asleep now!"

"Sestrenka..." Ivan smiled a little at the gracious sight he was beheld with.

Irina sat diligently on a stool, her short blonde hair adorned with the small hospital hat, making her face seemed younger and cuter. She was still dressed up in her white nurse outfit, deep blue lines on the cuffs and the edges of her skirt. She asked sweetly, "Are you fully conscious now? Are you feeling any pain?"

Other than the throbbing bellowing loudly inside his head, both his hands stung. He looked down to see an IV bag attached to him and he was still a bit sleepy, he croaked, disturbingly feeling the bubbles in his chest and grazes in his neck, 

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

He jumped at the sound of the malicious voice once again. Cold beads formed on his clammy skin, that voice was very recogniseable. It was impossible to forget who did that vocal belonged to. He swallowed as he looked at his right.

Natalya was there.

"Iik!" Ivan shrieked and nearly tumbled from his bed. Suddenly, he didn't feel so sleepy now! His younger sister always had that effect on him!

His younger sister had piercing eyes like a hawk, icy blue irises confronting his poor soul. Her platinum hair tied with the big ribbon into a ponytail and she appeared to wear an emo hospital hoodie, pitch black as the night sky. Her hand, dear Czar, her hand was murderously gripping his right one, she would be crushing and breaking his bones if Ivan dared to move away.

"Na-Natalya!" He exclaimed falsely.

Pink lips worded out, "Big brother."

"Da, da! Natalya!"

"Are you fine?"

"Da! I am!"

She clenched the bedsheets as if they just had an affair with her brother, Ivan was sure she had tore off a bit of stuffed cotton. Instead of pouncing on him like usual, his Belorussian sister stood and walked towards the door. Opening it, she nodded strictly towards them both, her frozen eyesight sweeping the room before she stepped out of it. Surprisingly, the door clattered a bit as it hit the hinges, not swaying or showing any signs of breaking.

"What was that?" Ivan let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding, this always happened.

"There's a corpse to be autopsied, she mentioned earlier... She's waiting for you to wake up before going..." Irina answered quietly, her hands fiddling on her lap. A sign of nervousness seemed to adore from it, filling the space bit by bit.

"Oh." Ivan scratched his cheek, Natalya was always the serious one in doing her job in the family- or it was because of her passion in pathology. Their family admired the horrible stench and exploration of corpses.

"Speaking of which, how about you, sestrenka?" He asked with an unsure tone.

She answered calmly, "I'm on a break right now, I'll continue after this. Say.. little brother..." She trailed off, eyes wandering to a vase of sunflowers sitting atop the patient's desk. Ivan followed through and noticed the aloft handwriting on the note hanging by a yellow petal.

He reached for it, feeling a bit woozy when the bubbles in his chest shifted, rounding his entire organ pleasantly. He unfolded the note carefully with his bony fingers,

_We hope you get better soon! _

_Love by;- Eduard, Tolys, Raivis_

"They already visited?" He asked, a finger rubbing the note gently.

"Graduation party finished early." Irina smiled.

"What do you want to ask me?"

"Hum? Speak again, please?"

He looked upwards, his face stretching a dismal smile as he repeated the question different words but delivered the meaning,

"You want to ask something just now. What was it, Irina?"

His older sister widened her eyes before gaining her composure, Ivan used the full name only when he wanted to obscure formality or directing a command, it's always to get what he wanted.

"The doctor said that you nearly drowned... Ivan... That is the 5th time you attempted to," She paused, a dire attempt of thinking, "Take your life. Can you tell me the truth of what's going on?"

Ivan had his smile etched and his heart was calmly beating, but his brain was pounding heavily, an imaginary crack had spiraled into another series of cracks from the question his dearest family just asked.

He answered, "I don't know what you're talking about, sestrenka. There's nothing wrong about me." _Only making a white lie to hide my true self._

Irina nodded, but her face held a sad mask, she was truly expressive of her emotions, she's the perfect example to wear her heart on her sleeve. She cries when she wants to cry, she laughs when she wants to laugh, she smiles nearly 24/7 or around the clock. To this, Ivan's heart had leaped sickly as treacherous bile burned up his throat. He forced them down quickly, caring for his sister's reaction if he did the opposite.

"I need to go now. My break will end soon." She smiled again as she stood from her stool.

Ivan closed his eyes, _calm down, _his eardrums hummed quietly and complimented with the clicks of Irina's favourite heels on the marble tiles. He opened them again to see the door closing, the same _thump _Natalya delivered but softer; a message hanging in the air for him to intercept.

He closed his eyes again, welcoming the pitch black curtains. He read the message with his broken heart,

_We're here when you need us, Ivan._

It was only him in the room right now.

He slumped onto his bed, glaring directly into the wall. The pillow hit him softly and his damp hair stuck onto his face line. If he remembered correctly, the American will come soon and forced him to choke out unpleasant answers to satisfy on filling the clipboard those psychiatrists were all obsessed with. Come on, It's just a wooden board clipped with paper!

The window was pattering soft rain, he hoped that no one noticed him falling into the lake but alas, miracle happens.

Ivan spend his time before the American doctor came by dozing off into a sleep.

**=+=+=+=**

"Hoi, hoi, wake up."

"..."

"Hey, wake up~"

"..."

"Kese! Wake up, sleeping beauty~ I need to do my job here so just fucking wake up!"

Ivan's eyes fluttered open abruptly that the other was startled for a second. He closed his eyes and relished an innocent second on resting his upper face as he groggily stood straight on the bed, his beige strands had dried and tickled his cheek, much to his relief.

Rubbing his face, he said, "You know, Alfred. You shouldn't curse at your patient just like that."

"What the fuck?! I'm not Al!" A hoarse voice nearly smashed his eardrums.

Ivan lifted his head, brain still swarming with daze, "There you go again, stupid American. What had I told you about curs-"

He stopped halfway. 

The person in front of him _wasn't_ Alfred F. Jones- the one he formed a friendship dubbed the Scariest Friendship To Ever Exist by his best friend.

This was definitely not Alfred.

_Very impossible to be him._

Ivan managed to suppress a stunned gasp, lord heavens shall he forbade, _ever_ , this person standing in front of him perfectly resembled the replicate of a pure knight with an angelic voice. White hair as striking as the winter season containing such relish that would crawl the winters of Russia themselves deep into the pit of shame, the edges of the soft-looking tufts being ashy platinum, as if burned with holy light. He lingered down the pale skin with a caressing soft hue when studied even by mere sight.

Ivan watched the lab coat hung over a long-sleeved shirt and a tie, he knew psychiatrists had a strict formal dress code but this one he got stuck with was a special snowflake. His sleeves were rolled up by his arms, displaying the muscles, not too small or appealing- just the right size. Same for his hands with the gifted long fingers, Ivan wondered if he played the piano judging by the charming callouses. His shirt was thankfully decent but that collarbone and jawline was not decent, they should be on the ban list. 

He stopped at the thin waist and took a sharp inhale, the lab coat hugging the absolute feminine figure.

He flicked his gaze to stare at the decorated pair of ruby irises, there was a taste of mischievous fire in them and baggy shadows that might be permanent. Ivan finally clicked together.

"Albino?" He asked, Russian accent visibly rolling.

The doctor's eyes seemed to widen, but he didn't change the cocky position he's in as he said, "Russian?"

Ivan blinked, "I asked you first."

The other huffed, dropping down his arms that were put on his waist and positioned his clipboard. He sat on the same stool Irina did and clicked his ballpen, eyes not meeting directly at Ivan's.

Ivan confirmed that this person was perfect in the outer appearance, he swore that his personality must be pretty shambled.

The other plainly ignored him and droned about the basic information Ivan needed to know,

"Well, your usual psychiatrist, Doctor Jones-" His tongue wagged from the formality for his cute and awesome kouhai but damn it, it was a part of his job. "He's in class right now, sudden change of schedule. I'll be your doctor today and my name's Doctor Beilschimdt."

Ivan pursed his lips a bit, "You're Slavic, Beilschimdt?"

"German." He narrowed his baggy eyes, smooth pronunciation of his name, this guy's a Slav. Only Natalya ever addressed him by his surname to avoid any sort of formality with him, anyone else was scared of messing it up which leaded for them to settle at _Gilbert_ or _Gil_. Truth be told, that's an awesome fact about him.

He hummed, "West?"

"East."

Ivan looked at the ceiling for a bit, "Ah~ Kaliningrad, Prussiya. Shame it's a part of Russiya now, da?"

Instead of shooting back like the others that Ivan had taunted too far, (he missed his three best friends sometimes) Gilbert stated proudly, "So you are Russian."

A superior smirk formed on his face and Ivan had the sudden urge to wipe it off on the hospital floor, probably with an addition of gleeful blood.

"Da, it's clear with my accent and face." He smiled sweetly.

"And your name, Ivan Braginsky." Ivan thanked mentally that he didn't say it as AIH-VEN, he really hated one peculiar American who said that. Guess it's the advantage of being a Slav rather than an obnoxious American with a serious issue of being tongue-wagged with foreign languages.

After Ivan hadn't given a loud answer, Gilbert said as he took out a pair of black glasses from his pocket,

"Very surprising that you know much about Prussia."

Ivan clamped his mouth shut, not letting any answers to slip out and widen his vulnerability. He nodded.

Gilbert tapped a pen on his clipboard and crossed his legs, "Braginsky, do you know where you are?"

_The typical question._ "Da." He had learned that speaking was way better than through body language, psychiatrists can be so freaking persistent despite their calm attitude.

"Where?"

"HetaHospital."

"Why do you think you're here?"

"I attempted a suicide mission."

Gilbert peeked his head, there was no hesitation in Ivan's voice. He had seen it once since it's extremely uncommon. Talking about a sensitive topic as if they were insensitive- Alfred had a keen eye to not describe Ivan Braginsky as a schizophrenic, most newbies usually would.

"Ja, how did you attempt it?"

"By falling into a lake. If you want me to be specific, which I know you want me to. By drowning!" Ivan falsely chirped.

Gladly, the albino had much self-control and failed to flinch. All those years handling Francis' fashion disasters benefited him greatly. He drooped his shoulders and jotted that down.

"Tell me, Braginsky. What do you feel about this?" A straightforward attempt.

Ivan stared at the window, seeing drops of rains trickling down the glass. What a perfect weather, the only reason he chose to drown today in the biggest lake in town was because he wished for him to be swept away when the storm thundered during the afternoon glory. It was beyond belief if he ended up in the ocean and no burial ceremony with a dead body- Natalya will be on rage and will search the whole 7 seas just for him- that's why he chose the lake. Inner peace was child's play for him.

He turned his head to watch the German, slowly, he made out the word.

"Unsure."

Gilbert halted his tapping, a normal answer but with a convincing tone. This type of patient was the one he always had the hardest time to handle, his brash personality somehow won't fit with this person with a tendency to twist his words into anything that pleased him. Glad that he wasn't this Russian's permanent Emergency Psychiatrist or psychologist, he already had enough of what hell shoved onto his laps.

He licked the roof of his mouth, a small shot of uneasiness jolted him, "How about you tell me the things that you're sure about? Even minor details are appreciated."

Ivan hummed a song. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously, Rasputin?"

Ivan laid his head gently on the dent, he nodded, "Surprising that you know it considering that Rasputin is banned in Europe."

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort but clamped it shut when he realised it. His never-stopping brain processing the answer and checked out for any sort of possibility it being wrong - but he's a born genius and strategist, the percentage of it being wrong deduced to a mere 23.42%.

"Are you playing mind games with me?!" He screeched.

Ivan blinked innocently, his smile told otherwise, to be honest. He confirmed it with a smooth, "So what if I do?"

He tilted his head, watching the flabbergasted German stopped working. Ivan smiled wider, he enjoyed the fun of playing with people, especially psychiatrists or psychologists with a boost of a big ego. The idea of messing with people's heads always fascinated him.

Gilbert hunched his body, looking at Ivan with a sneer that he failed to contain. 1 point for Ivan, whoop. 

But then, the impossible happened. Gilbert's pale cheeks were dusted with red out of... embarrassment? High take of his ego? Even Alfred just laughed and took revenge by pushing his buttons. The albino didn't avoid eye contact as he sneered maliciously,

"Fuck you."

Ivan took off his smile, "That's not how you should treat your patient."

"Hospitality, my ass! And I'm wondering how you're still not in the Hetasylum!" Gilbert flailed his arms, professional side ignored as he turned into his totally awesome self.

Ivan was flattered, this guy was horrible at his job.

The German huffed, uncrossing his legs and leaned back only a bit, aware of not falling from the stool. Hospital chairs were always uncomfortable, especially in the waiting area and they expected certified medical healthcare, for god's sake. Suddenly, a small _chirp_ came from his coat's pocket, Gilbert rubbed his thumb and index finger together, he had set his phone to use the Gilbird tune only with the hospital's official group chat. It was no secret they had another crack group chat so this one was used for important issues regarding their jobs, usually a sudden change of schedule.

He raised a finger, "Do you mind?" Calm voice was back, bravo.

Ivan nodded, his attention elsewhere. He wondered where did he locate his phone last time, it might had fallen into the lake with him. Gilbert took out his phone and gave a quick glance at the notification displayed on his lock screen.

_Kirkland: Beilschimdt, your session with Jones' patient is cut halftime. Class ends early._

_Jones: pity u gil 2 deal w/ a guy like him_

_Kirkland: Queen's English!_

He shut his phone, slipping it back before picking up his clipboard. He grimaced at what he wrote and clicked off the ballpen before standing on his feet. He made out the sentences gently, "I seriously don't want to be in ER today but fortunately, our session could be cut short. Doctor Jones can attend to you now."

At this, he caught the other's attention. Ivan felt his smile slipping, he'll never admit that this doctor's better than that democratic bastard. His entertainment was cut short, much to his dismay.

"It's a pleasure to hear about your problems. Thank you for answering my questions." Gilbert said politely, he reached out his left hand for Ivan to shake. Ivan stared flatly at it before gripping the hand, making sure to squeeze it only a tiny witty bit that made Gilbert winced.

"It's a pleasure too, da~" He said honestly.

"Huh, bye." Gilbert didn't turn his back as he headed for the door, a slight shuffle as he grabbed the door handle (with the hand Ivan didn't shake) but no turning as he stepped out of the room.

Ivan landed his body on the soft mattress, he thought about the doctor; albino, rough voice, feminine figure, narcissist, confident, smarts, highly rude and unprofessional. And German with a Slavic background, Prussian, huh? Why was he even an employee here?

He licked his chappy lips, feeling grateful that it wasn't the American he needed to deal with. That was it, until an obnoxious voice boomed plus someone shoving the door open.

"Yo, Ivan! How you doing, dude?!"

He groaned.

Alfred giddily entered the room, blue eyes sparkling and the cowlick he wished to cut bouncing proudly. His steps were followed with an unfamiliar shorter blonde, messy hair and a deep scowl on his face. In this person's case, his eyebrows were the one that seemed to plaster proudly, or was it natural?

Alfred clenched his bed's railing, shaking it and Ivan together. _Bless his inhuman strength. _Ivan answered happily,

"Why should I tell you?"

He noticed both of them were wearing their lab coats, the other blonde appeared neater and more groomed despite his hairstyle. His scary face was not suitable for a psychiatrist, was this Alfred's lecturer or co-worker or senior?

"You're Ivan Braginsky?" Surprisingly, the other blonde asked with a thick British accent.

Ivan answered, "Yes."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Arthur Kirkland." He stretched his hand, they shook hands, Ivan gripped it with the same energy as usual and Arthur let out a yelp of pain.

"Hey! Chill, Ivan!" Alfred busted in, giving his companion a moment to confirm that his bones weren't broken.

"What? You want me to shake hands with you too?" He asked innocently.

"Nah. I prefer a fist-bump." He shrugged it off.

Alfred scanned the room, searching for something. Ivan was surprised when he asked, "Where's Gil?"

"Who?"

Alfred widened his arms, "The dude replacing me? Gilbert Beilschimdt?" He sputtered at the family name. "He's one of the awesomest guys here! I thought that he's supposed to be taking care of you."

Ivan scratched his cheek, "Well, he's out of here."

Alfred dropped his cheery and muscles-hurt grin, settling for a neutral line. "Ivan.. What did you do to him?"

Arthur thankfully interrupted them but Ivan felt the lingering hard gaze Alfred bore. Unaware of the blanket of tension the two were creating as he flexed his long fingers, voice shattering the void. "Ivan Braginsky, we want to tell you about the purpose we're here."

"It's not to transfer me into the Hetasylum...?"

Alfred laughed boastfully, Arthur rolled his eyes. "To clear things up, I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm a surgeon." _Ivan knew that face wasn't suitable for mentally-ill patients._

Alfred had a coughing fit, "Yeah. And I'm not a psychiatrist."

Arthur send him something that made him silent like a tamed eagle. The Brit rummaged the heavy briefcase he's holding and pulled out a thin sheet of papers. He passed it to Alfred and the American slapped it full force onto his lap.

"We're offering you a job."

The papers slipped through his thick fingertips, falling with a _flap_ onto his laps. Some stray ones landed on the floor and Alfred groaned loudly as he bent to pick them up.

From the dumb look on his face, Ivan still managed to say, "Excuse me?"

Arthur crossed his arms, his scowl getting deeper. "A job here at HetaHospital. Also to fill a vacant seat in the Board Of Directors."

Alfred didn't try to contain his sneer, a direct promotion as a part of the BOD wasn't something to look down upon. Ivan ignored him, his brain was stirring, trying to produce a legit answer on why this job had been offered to him.

"Exactly, why?" He timidly asked.

Alfred cut Arthur to the answer, "You've got a Master in cardiology in Ryazan State MU. Straight 4 Flats throughout your studies. You've got 1 Fail and the MU expelled you, in curtsy of numerous discipline issues."

Ivan flashed him a grin, "Have you been stalking me? That's uncharacteristic of you." Those records were classified information locked in the Medical University database - last time he checked, he never pulled out the records about his semesters from the archive.

"A good ol' buddy of mine hacked the archive." Alfred said proudly as Arthur whacked the back of his head with a piece of rolled paper.

"Why did you whack me?!"

"You utter prat! You weren't supposed to tell him that!"

"Shut up, grandpa!"

As the two continued their childish bickering, Ivan used the opportunity to flick the papers given to him. He trailed the words with his chubby finger and read the whole text, a short letter informing him about the offer, the manual guide of HetaHospital and a list of what he presumed was the detail lining of the job.

*** Board of Directors  
\--** Head Of Radiology Department**

"This isn't similar to your American TV shows!" Ivan re-read the text given. 

"You don't have the rights to comment about CSI!"

"My country produced bloody Sherlock!"

"Eduard's a good hacker! He's going to be a HO here next week and I'm showing his pro tech skills to the whole hospital, no hardcore Brit will have the chance on standing in my way!"

At the mention of Eduard, Ivan slipped, "Say again?"

The two froze, comically shocked that Ivan had made his presence known again or the fact that they ignored the latter. Arthur's cheeks were dusted in pink as he physically slapped himself and Alfred didn't show a single hint of shame as he turned himself around from facing the other.

The American started, "Oh, well .. Artie here is such a hardcore Brit, very stereotypical I know-"

Ivan cut him off, he was sure that whatever Alfred'd say next was a private matter he'd regret dwelling in. "Nyet, I want you to repeat about Eduard."

Alfred blinked at the ceiling, he rambled thoughtfully. "Oh, you mean Eduard? That Estonian dude's going to be a HO here next week, radiology tech! There'll be 3 new HOs starting next week, all of them come from this med school nearby ... Heard they're like best friends, from what Tino said -" Alfred wanted to say more but his mouth was slapped by an angered Arthur.

"MMMFTTTM?!" He muffled as Arthur tried very hard not to un-slap his hand from the other's tongue licking it roughly.

"Shut up! Shut up!' He hissed.

Alfred clawed successfully and gasped, "What the actual fuck, Artie?! Why did you-"

"Look at him!" Arthur pointed a sharp finger at Ivan's direction. At first, Alfred didn't quite follow on what's the deal, well, until he turned to look at the Russian.

Ivan was smiling, not the disturbing or sweet one but a total curved-up smile with malice. His intimidating aura had spanned greater than ever, his aura always had a catch to be noticed even by the naked eye - and this one was so abnormal it made both men seeing it gulped in horror.

"Kol kol kol..." His shoulders racketed, it wasn't the sound of crying. It was the sound of a cynical laughter!

He snapped, not the move but the sound. He snapped his neck to stare forward at both of them, a smile so maniac that Arthur's heart skimpily dodged a heart attack hurling like a missile towards his direction. Alfred only stared - yes, the American stared, as if he had unraveled a layer of secret coating the Russian and was enjoying every bit of the scene.

Ivan asked, voice slow yet dragging a corpse with it, a gift from his dysfunctional family he inherited.

"When do I start?"


	4. Regrets Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert struck a bargain with Alfred. Ludwig just wanted some sleep.

Gilbert slammed his mug of beer hard on the table, slouching the apple-coloured brew and circled it over the end rim of his glass.

"Wow. dude! What has gotten into you?!" Gilbert rotated his head slowly, head fuzzier than that bear on the stupid Masha And The Bear cartoon.

Mathias stood with all glory, a mug of beer in his hands and his defying gravity hair more stylish than ever. His ocean eyes were a bit clouded with unconsciousness but the Dane could handle more than 7 mugs combined, an achievement the Awesome Trio of HetaHospital could only accomplish. They were at the bar, an inclusive luxury bar only for the staff of HetaHospital to visit, it was mysterious how they managed to keep tab on how much they drink and deducted it off their monthly wages.

"Nothinggggggg!!" He slurred, not cringing at how drunk his voice was. He was very sure that he still didn't feel quite out of it yet. After all, Gilbert had arrived here just an hour ago, maybe. He downed his mug in one go.

Letting out a steamy breath, he chuckled. "Just some stupid Russian patient I manhandled today. Nein, not that manhandling. Stop your train of fantasy this instant, you Lego doofus." He pointed a trembling finger at Mathias's direction, swaying it to emphatise his words.

"Haha! That guy must be a pain to handle!" Mathias roared with laughter, Gilbert laughed back, slamming his back as painful as he could.

"Ja.. He's one tough Russian..." He though of that overly cute face, the way he pouted with unfairness, the clammy pale skin- and those pair of amethyst lily crystals fitted in with white thick eyelashes. Dear Vati, there went his proof that he's not drunk being chucked out of the window.

"And a bit cute..."

"Eh?" Mathias leaned in, quite not catching what the drunkard was saying.

"Nah! I'm starting to become crazy. that is!" He waved dismissingly, being a psychologist had its perks after all!

"You're just drunk!" Mathias roared again before he chugged down the leftover of his beer. He shouted over the blunders of the pub with that cheerful and demanding voice of his, "One more, please!" Gilbert followed pursuit, exhaling a tense sigh mixed with relief as he let the last drop of fuzzy beer rolled over his tongue and slipped down his burning throat, he shouted hoarsely. "Make that two!" 

"Woah, woah, dudes! I think it's better that you slow down!" A chirpy voice with a clipped tone interrupted them.

Gilbert and Mathias both groaned before turning their heads to see Alfred Fucking Jones in his utmost glory, in his set of dirty lab uniform. Gilbert scrunched his nose at the strong smell of antiseptic; they should really refrain from mixing alcoholic smell with medicine, it makes everyone to feel like puking. He also blamed on Alfred's habit to not change clothes when going out, the American's first date was a horrible failure because he thought that wearing a shirt coated with _frog blood _and smelling like _frog _was acceptable in a Michelin restaurant.

Mathias cheered, perfectly okay with the smell since he was adapted to marijuana during the schooling days."Hey there, Alfred! Took you long enough!" He pointed at the empty seat besides Gilbert.

Alfred's too sky-ish eyes flitted over the bar, taking in their drunken states as he slid down, cowlick bouncing energetically. "Can I take a break? Artie's killing me with that clinical test on anaesthetist. Oh Washington, I don't know if I have the time to retrieve a pass into Hetasylum for that so-called exclusive reference book."

He stared neutrally as the bartender clunked the two mugs of beer in front of them. Gilbert caught the desperate staring and the way the obnoxious American forced his cheerfulness to radiate, Al is that tired? Poor him. Gilbert's not going to talk shit about Arthur, he didn't want to get cursed.

"Want one, Al?" He swayed his own mug with no stability in front of him. Alfred jerked his head away, the beer nearly splashed his face. He shook his head childishly, "Nah! I'll just get a bourbon, okay?" The bartender heard him and immediately fixed him a glass, Alfred caught it and sipped it slowly.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "You Americans and bourbon."

"Hey! It's the same as you Germans with beer!"

"At least beer tastes awesome such as me!"

"Do you produce beer?!"

"Yeah! There's my DNA in it!"

"Oh, well. Bourbon is so overkill and there's organic American DNA in it!"

"You two are not emphasizing anything..." Mathias drawled before slamming his arm on the table, mentally and psychically drunk out of his mind. They both didn't notice the idiotic Dane ordering more than 3 mugs during their argument and practically finished them. The blonde called out, "One more, pluzeee!"

Returning back to his beer, Gilbert stopped as Alfred spoke, "By the way, thanks for replacing me in ER and Ivan!"

He tried not to raise an eyebrow, he pushed his mug away from his mouth. "You both are on a first-name basis?"

Alfred chuckled innocently, "Yeah. I hate that guy! Oh- That means he called you by your Beilshit surname?"

"You forgot the c, m and d, and it's normal to be called like that." He went back to his delicious alcoholic beverage as the other sipped his own slowly, enjoying the slight bitterness that was thick as his current mood. If he thought of that Russian for even one more second, he'd go die in a ditch.

Gilbert 's red eyes narrowed at the sight of Mathias being cranky by tinkling empty beer bottles to produce what he thought was the - bless Dear Vati,_ Kiss The Girl_. Can that sunshine Dane stop his overly mermaid references for a day? That'd do the whole hospital a lot of pleasure and no mermaid costume some orthopedic specialist surgeon is wearing while strutting down the wards. It's an eyesore and not what everyone loved well, except the kids. They loved a childish adult in a goddamn mermaid dress. Especially since the pediatric ward was just beside the orthopedic one, Tino supported this.

Tearing his eyes away from yet another crazy event in the Awesome Trio's activities, he looked at Alfred. "So, you need a pass into Hetasylum?"

Alfred whined, "I don't want to deal with them! They're crazy officials that support the whole asylum-is-full-of-psychos stereotype! That guide book is with someone Artie's close to, in the asylum."

Gilbert wandered over the pub, lingering at a new majestic piano sitting elegantly on the podium, black shining under the dim chandelier. He wondered where's the occasional pianist, the guy's pretty good, albeit a bit shabby and slow ending ticks. Gilbert went to the Vienna Music School once, receiving lessons about string instruments and Sunday choirs but he still preferred the flute though, and THE AWESOME GUITAR.

"I could go with you."

"What?!" Alfred screamed in horror of Gilbert extending help.

He shrugged, "I'm on somehow good terms with them, they don't try to kill me when I visit. I could be your plus one and protector, me! Protecting MO Alfred Jones that's so scared to be killed by some mental doctors!" He laughed at his face.

Alfred pouted childishly, "No! I'm not afraid of them! They just give me the creeps! Besides, you're drunk. Your opinion doesn't count."

Gilbert looked at the empty mug in his hands, he cringed.

"Ja. My awesome opinion really doesn't count!"

He'll regret those words that managed to slip through his ego in the morning, probably after the massive hungover and an annoying scolding lesson from his own little bruder because he passed out on the new couch. 

**=+=+=**

Ludwig sighed.

He massaged his forehead carefully, the white papers neatly placed in his hands. He glanced at his Swatch at his wrist: 11:56 P.M.

Pinching the bare spot between his skull, he tucked away a few loose strands into his tuft of gelled blonde hair. The ergonomic chair hugging his spine protectively, not making him bend like an old grandpa even though he's been placing his butt here for 4 hours already.

A message chimed into his phone, he peered to see a message from the _Ax3s_ group chat that for odd's no reason was he forced into. To be typical, he created it but before, it was named _The Officials Of HetaHospital_. Somehow, it must had been a drunk Kiku because its name was _Three Hot Dickies_ but the Japanese denied it. Ludwig was of course, not fooled because Feliciano's corruptness wasn't on that level yet. And the next thing he knew, it's _W3 Are Hot_, _Evil Dread Trio_, S_upport Yaoi_, _Pasta is Vasta,_ _Bellas Are Supreme_, _Weed Vargas Honda_ and _GerIta is Canon._ What the heck was GerIta, Ludwig didn't know and he's not going to find out what it was.

Gilbert told him that he'll fully regret it. Besides, he switched it to the current name and the three of them were satisfied with it, thank Vati.

**Feliciano: Ludwig! Are you still oncall?! I made pasta at Kiku's house!**

_Yes._

**Feliciano: :<< Aww! There's no patient right? Kiku told me that Friday nights don't have any patients!**

**Kiku: I'm not plotting with him.**

_I could only punch my card after 12. And Feliciano, please stop dragging Kiku with you._

**Feliciano: Ve~? I would never!**

Ludwig managed not to pinch harder, it was always a horrible mess if he tried to do something with the Italian's brain. Absolute monstrosity. He typed:

_I'll come at Kiku's house after 12._

**Feliciano: YEYY~~~~ SLEEPOVER!!!!!**

**Kiku: I've just bought a limited Ju-On DVD edition. This'll be good.**

Ludwig's motivation to stop Kiku being obsessed with horror movies had long escaped him.

He set his phone back before reading the papers until the last paragraph. He flipped it to the next and squinted at the New Employee subject.

"Okay, what's going on here..." He whispered to himself. The latest BOD meeting was to decide whether Natalya should assume as the new Head of Mortuary, on which they decided to remain neutral following what happened last time someone opposed her getting the job, they transferred the person ever since his car was carved by a knife. (Feliciano admitted that the carved car was a spectacular art but all Ludwig could see was a penis and Kiku saw a making out session)

There's also a slip-in by Yao stating that he found someone for the Head Of Radiology Department job. That caught his interest, only him since the others were watching Arthur and Francis having a WWE match on top of the table. Francis screaming VIVE LA FRANCE was impossible to _not_ caught anyone's attention.

He read the statement typed:

_To The Head Of The Otolaryngology Department:_

_Following the vacant seat of the Head Of The Radiology Department for more than 2 years, I've found the perfect candidate to take the job. The profile is attached below and the person is available, confirmed to have sufficient medical knowledge regarding radiology._

_By Wang, Yao | Head Of The Pharmacy Department_

He already read the profile attachment so he flipped it again and found a star memo sticking out like a sore thumb. Just looking at it made him want to lecture everyone in a 5-meter radius. He squinted his eyes at the terrible writing.

_Ok, Lud. This is a quick report bcs Gil n Mathi are waiting for me 2 have a drink w them and goddamn lab class after this. So, me n Artie managed 2 have Ivan Bragincyysy take the radio job n hes coming this Mon for a tour before starting on Tues. Yeah, thats the problem. I cant find someone to give him the tour so ill leave that 2 you. Thats all, bye_

_By Alfred Dick Jones | Head Of The Psychiatrist Department_

_Omg i realized that i spelled his name wrong *Braginsky_

_and my name omfg *Alfred F. Jones_

Ludwig wanted to bang his head on the table and just sleep.

No wonder Arthur was always grumpy and stressful, Alfred was too much to handle, and being a surgeon in Cardiology was tiring already.

Ludwig groaned as he heard a beep, it's now 12. He stood and hissed slightly at the sleepiness in his left leg, he already promised to go have a sleepover at Kiku's house. He better go now before Feliciano started to cry and worry if something bad happened to him.

He'd find someone for giving the tour to Ivan Braginsky after this. Anyone would do.

Dear Vati, how much he would regret after this.


	5. A French In My Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Arthur have a Brocuddling session. Someone's jealous.

When you're practically living in the infamous private HetaHospital, whether you're a patient or a staff, you need to know one thing.

You might wake up with someone in your bed.

A ton, a shiz ton of cases had been reported but the situation just kept ongoing and actually escalated further that the hospital's official website had dedicated a forum including a poll to vote for the next Someone's In Your Bed probability. Currently, the poll dictated Saadik and Heracles after they were caught having a bath together in a nearby sauna with very intimate actions that shouldn't be used in a sauna as per what Tino claimed to be.

There were famous cases around this, one example involved two doctors in the BOD. Finding a usually stern German with a chirpy Italian sleeping naked together in the Oncall Room made the whole faculty boomed and literally exploded. It went viral after an hour and taken down after a certain Ludwig threatened a certain American to kill him in his sleep with a mustache and a grape. It happened often so they weren't surprised if they walked into a room and Feliciano was grabbing Ludwig's buttocks, except for those younger ones. 

In conclusion, anyone who wakes up with someone in their bed gets a free item from the upper-head and records in a diary.

Now, this was the explanation of the next case that actually boiled a desirable tension in both's hearts and was caused by man's best friend.

Francis groaned.

The softness of the mattress enveloping his body was the first sensation he registered after he woke up. His fingers felt sluggish, a reminder of him handling a case at midnight, it was exhausting and all of his body parts were tired. He felt the pillow rumpled softly on his cheekbone, the smell of detergent and something snappy yet sweet.

Francis opened his eyes because his 3 hours of beauty sleep was considerably over and was greeted by a lovely sight.

His lips curved into a soft smile at the Brit's sleeping face. Arthur's in deep sleep, his left hand under his head and pillow making his messy bangs covered half of his face. It was a peaceful expression, with dark blonde eyelashes draped over his eyelids and the tense muscles in both of his humongous eyebrows and jaw gone; a stunning contrast to his usually grumpy face.

Francis chuckled lowly, he reached out his hand to brush back some of those bangs, landing them carefully back on the nest of wild hair.

"Don't fucking harass me."

Arthur opened his eyes with a terrifying force, his right hand clasping Francis's wrist and a low grumble escaped from his mouth.

Francis was grateful that he's still sleepy, if not, he'd scream in horror by now. He patted Arthur's head with his clenched hand and an amount of effort before breathing.

"Bonjour, Black Sheep~"

Arthur rolled his eyes sarcastically, already irritated by the use of common-day French. Still, he closed his eyes and surprisingly inhaled calmly, he opened his palm and let the arm be draped over his waist.

"Good morning, Frog."

Francis snickered, already liking how simple their morning interactions were. Meanwhile, his counterpart was visibly not liking this. Arthur pushed back and sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes before turning to glare maliciously at him.

"Now, why in the Queen's name are you in my bed?!"

Francis tried remembering what happened last night. Even by not looking at the Brit, he knew that he's waiting for an explanation, that's just how Arthur digs out information. He started, propping his left arm on the pillow, "You see, I had a critical case where a patient had a 70% burn damage on her body. After the treatment, I was not beyond energetic and dragged my beautiful feet to the nearest room for my beauty sleep."

"Your beauty sleep is randomnised, and your ward is just 5 steps away." Arthur sneered.

"And the Operation Room is at the end of the hallway."

Arthur scrunched his nose up, not showing the slightest bit of delight as Francis grinned in victory. Scowling, he averted his gaze and grabbed his phone that had dropped on the floor, immersing himself in it while Francis also sat up, watching his surrounding.

They were in Arthur's bed at the Cardiology Resting Ward, the others were unoccupied. In the early morning he barged in here, heavy snores filled the room before he plummeted his body onto the fluffy bad. Arthur had awoken sleepily and barely grunted, giving his permission for him to sleep together. Being best friends since diapers, he took of his shirt smelling like horrible carcass, obvious that the both of them wouldn't want to have a burning scent in their lungs. Arthur hummed approvingly before cuddling up with him for the entire 3 hours.

If it was a normal Arthur, he would get punched in the face, kicked in the balls, thrown at the nearest wall, cursed with his superstitious abilities and choked until he reached the brim of his death before anyone witnessed his soon-to-be murdered and stopped his soon-to-be-murderer.

Francis really wished that anyone who could capture his heart at last had a high pain tolerance.

Arthur smirked at his phone Francis cast a look at him. He said, "Hey, frog! You know what's the special gift for the Someone's In Your Bed event?!"

"Sadly, non. Kiku is very uptight about this! Why?"

He gleefully put the phone in his face, the other looked at the picture of the trench coat. It was majestically beautiful, royal blue the wholesome colour and long coattails flowing behind it. An overflowing aura of dignity wavered around the piece of clothing and Francis knew this was Arthur's sense of style except that it didn't look like an old man's taste. However, there was one tiny problem-

"You're not a fan of blue."

Arthur popped his lips irritatingly, "I love blue."

He pulled his phone away while Francis pointed out, "You like blue."

"Liked. Past tense, Francis. Catch up."

"Since when, exactly?"

He shrugged, leaving the question hanging in the air. Francis also shrugged it off because Arthur's stubbornness was as equal as a sleeping koala and a sleeping koala was as dangerous as Arthur. That sounded completely wrong, honhon.

"You, frog. Come here. I need to take a picture to prove to them!" He barked quietly. Francis yawned before crawling towards his side and puts his chin on his shoulder. Before long, he heard the sound of the camera shuttering and while the device waited to process the image, he smoothly planted a kiss at Arthur's collarbone.

The phone clicked at the same time Arthur squeaked in horror before yanking Francis's stupid long hair hard enough he could feel his skin ripping and screamed angrily,

"WHY THE BLOODY HECK DID YOU KISS ME?!"

Francis smirked playfully, "Ohonhonhon~ It's just platonic kissing, Arthur. No harm done."

He sputtered, cheeks reddening, "For pixie dust's sake, I posted it as my story, you wine-sucking monkey!"

Francis lifted an eyebrow, "Oh? Let me look."

He easily took the phone away from the Brit's hands as he put his palms into his face while groaning loudly in despair. The picture was not on candid or filter but it turned out nice, Arthur had his messy bed hair and was forming a neutral smile at the camera while he himself leaned over the shoulder, his lips connected to the finest edge of Arthur's collarbone and fun fact; that was his most sensitive spot. Their actions didn't do any threatening gossips to break out, only a pair of best friends with one being French do something French-like. But their positions did, he was not wearing a shirt and Arthur had only fit in until his bare shoulders into the frame, which meant that anyone could think that they were naked which leaded to surprise, surprise, just had sex and were sleeping together.

Francis tragically blanched at the thought.

He wanted to delete the post but he caught that 10 had viewed it in over of - 10 seconds. He caught some names he recognised but stopped dead track at _@alfredhamburger '_srecentcomment.

_omfg am i supposed 2 say congrats for you guyz fuxking each other/youre into frogs?!!!!!_

That moment he read the short comment, 5 had flooded to view the picture. With no hesitation, he tapped the Settings button and deleted that story as fast as he could. He tossed the phone into the air, he finally did it!

Arthur peeked through his fingers, he whispered, "Did you delete it?"

"Oui~" He flipped his hair.

Arthur sighed in relief, one advantage of being best friends with Arthur Kirkland was that he'd drop his ego and messed-up personality when privately around him, and probably thanked them in a proper way. "Merci, Francis."

Francis felt warmness pooling inside his stomach, he wanted to pinch his puffy cheeks so bad but that's not the type of platonic affection he showered him. Instead, he picked up his strewn shirt. "You're welcome."

Arthur clapped his hands together, "Now, let's go to that meeting we're having. We have an estimation of ... it's over 15 minutes by the starting time."

He gasped in realisation, "Frog, we're late! We're late!"

He was just going to shove his arms into the shirt before the other grabbed one of his arms and pulled him hard enough he yelped, Arthur seemed not to notice or just typically being uncaring as he shoved both of them past the door of the room. Francis managed to conclude that running with half his shirt done wasn't a good idea so he yanked it back and tossed it directly onto a patient walking by. He blew a kiss before Arthur tugged him harder and now they were running full speed towards the direction of the stairs.

He wheezed for breath, he needs air! He caught some as they took 3 steps at a time and Arthur send him the undeniable look of challenge. Smugly giving back an immediate acceptance even though he felt like dying, they both geared and boosted their speed. Wind whistled in their ears and people screamed in surprise as they burst out from the stairs onto the 10th floor, nearly knocking over a stroller. They both laughed loudly and banged the Meeting Room's door open.

Francis panted, catching his breath while Arthur slipped a small smile. 

"I win."

"Next time, no."

He gave that look when he's superior and Francis barely contained to choke him as someone shouted,

"No running in the hospital, you douchebags!"

Ludwig was glaring at them, unmistakably a sharp glint of discipline and soft-boiled anger in his icy blue eyes (it's so icy that Francis prefers not to stare into it, except when flirting with him. Otherwise, he's one strong potato and dense just like one. Not implying Gilbert, he's more of a mushy potato with a secret fondness towards pandas).

The German was seated at the main end with Feliciano and Kiku sitting respectively on his sides. Others also cranked their necks to look at them, he spotted his dear Matthew staring quietly from the rims of his glasses. His eyes glazed over at an unknown person in beside him; light-beige hair that appeared soft and tuffy, a prominent nose, a long pinkish white scarf draped over his neck and a pair of violet irises that watched him with interest.

Before he could even accessed further, someone whistled.

"The new couple has entered the ring at last~!"

Arthur basically snapped and scowled with damned hostile at Alfred, the American lazily cranked his face over the chair to look at them with his IPhone at hand. _That explained why he commented the story during an official meeting_. 

A sly grin etched on his face, and eyes filled to the brim with cheekiness. However, Francis noticed a slight dip of a negative emotion in it, he couldn't decipher it as Arthur growled,

"Shut up, Alfred! We're not a couple!"

Alfred snickered, "Yeah, dude! And French isn't the 2nd most romantic nationality to couple with!"

Francis got curious, how did Alfred knew? He's literally the type to never search for romantic (_impudent_) stuff like porn. He needed to ask Matthew after this, something's not quite right here.

Arthur didn't notice anything, being the _any-brats-defying-me-are-always-wrong_ type, "I'm saying this but we're best friends! Besides, who wants to date something as slimy as him?"

"No wonder British doesn't make into the list for romantic nationalities." Alfred laughed wickedly.

The other blonde's face was burning in annoyance by now, "You-"

"Calm down, you two! Can't you look that we have someone new here?!" Ludwig shouted at the perfect timing, he jabbed a finger towards the scarfed person.

Almost comically, Alfred groaned while the person Ludwig referred to smile a bit ... disturbingly. Arthur barely looked at him before his face turned into a pit of horror, his right hand trembling a bit. The American caught this and smirked devilishly, he asked.

"Your hand still hurts, Artie~?"

He answered him by swatting him at the back of his head, making Alfred let out a slightly cute "Ow!" before striding towards his place beside the latter, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Francis followed pursuit to sit beside him, not wanting to interfere the tense aura radiating between them.

Ludwig sighed, looking a bit peaceful than he was before. Less headaches, hum. There was a brief moment before he spoke, "You two are late. Reason?"

Francis answered for them, "Overslept."

"Together?" Feliciano perked, stopping his doodle of a dog, Ludwig's dog to be precise.

"Yeah!" The obnoxious blonde said, he continued as if he didn't realise he just jumped into the highest rank on Arthur's Murder list- "They make such a sweet couple, and I'm surprised that not one of them was limping since they fu-"

Arthur decided to choke him.

Francis watched Arthur's delicate fingers wrapping themselves around Alfred's neck, exposing the dangerous collarbone before the Brit stood up and brought them down, stumbling over the chairs with a cacophonous banging that was chaotic. He leaned further, pressing his body to prevent Alfred from squirming away or prying his fingers off.

"YOU DAMN-"

The whole room turned into a blunder of mayhem, Ludwig started to shout out orders while Feliciano squeaked in horror at the two rolling on the floor. Matthew had been playing Angry Birds at his phone since the start of the quarrel. Kiku seemed to enjoy this, the same as the stranger Francis failed to know further.

Francis decided to interrupt and hug Arthur from behind to pull him out. He struggled, kicking his legs in the air as he screamed,

"Let go of me, Francis!! I want to murder him!!"

He internally groaned, he tried to convince him, "Oui, oui, Angleterre! Calm down, you need to make a good first impression and Alfred isn't actually a supporter for this thing!"

"HEY!" Alfred screamed.

That offended scream made the Brit in his arms stopped physically abusing him. Arthur slid away and crossed his arms, acting as if a murder case just didn't nearly happened. Ludwig sighed for the billionth time and said,

"Now that's settled-" His eyes told everyone that that quarrel would continue and he needed to deal with the bills, "- I'm introducing you to our new member. If you may." He gestured at the stranger.

The man rose, height definitely beating everyone in the room. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent, "I'm Ivan Braginsky, you may call me Ivan. I'm starting today in the Radiology Department as its head. I hope we all can be friends!" He smiled warmly.

The three heads looked relieved, especially the German, because this new person surely wasn't going to bring more problems into their plates (the whole hospital's problems to be honest), right?

Kiku spoke after, his voice clear, "We three are the main heads and we shall see that someone will give you a tour. Do you have any preferences?"

Ivan smiled, his attitude glowing, "As long as it's not an American or a sour grandpa, I'm fine with anyone!"

Alfred and Arthur looked highly insulted.

Matthew barely managed to supress a laugh, Ivan seemed satisfied with the reactions. Kiku nudged Feliciano lightly, sending him a message to play his role. The Italian dropped his pen and chirped, curl bouncing with a new friend,

"Yep, new friend~ I'm going to assign you to..." He revealed his golden irises for a bit, scanning the people in the room, "Big Brother Francis~!" He pointed a finger playfully at the French's direction.

"Excuse moi?" He blinked.

Ludwig briefed him for a moment, probably his personality before saying, "That settles it. Francis will give a tour to Ivan after this. I'm duly noted that you're good at giving people advices. If so, please tell our new member the dos and don'ts here." His body posture also told him not to give in details such as the Someone's In Your Bed thing.

As if he's not the only one who got the message, Arthur exclaimed,

"Hey, Kiku. Can I get that blue trench coat as my price for a French in my bed?"

He was pretty sure he sensed someone giving an outrageous air of jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late late even though school ended becausw important family matters and travelling and just urgh.

**Author's Note:**

> No TWITTER BECAUSE DUDE.
> 
> By the way, Kuya here! :3  
No, I'm not a male or a Filipino so any Filipinos out there, please don't come to flock at me like I'm one. It's a major problem and it's starting to get irritating. ^^  
Sorry.
> 
> Promoting my Wattpad account: @KuyaReCom


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